


the one where they dance

by pure1magination



Series: Stony drabbles [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Dancing, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rhodey is the voice of reason, Sexual Tension, Slow Dancing, Steve has a thing for scars, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony is not a certified dance instructor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure1magination/pseuds/pure1magination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is not big on talking things out or confronting his own emotions.<br/>He is, however, very big on over-the-top romantic gestures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one where they dance

Ever since the funeral, Steve Rogers had been in the deepest funk Tony had ever seen. He’d gone on a few dates with Sharon Carter, which Tony had definitely  _ not  _ spied on because he was definitely  _ not _ jealous, but if he  _ had  _ been spying, he might have noticed that the dates were a little… odd. Sure, there was hand-holding, and Steve smiled sometimes, but for the most part, it was Sharon talking and Steve looking very, very sad. If Tony had been eavesdropping on one of these dates, and sitting in a nearby booth in a trench coat and a stylish hat and sunglasses and casually sipping a caramel mocha latte with two espresso shots and a shot of butterscotch, with his back turned to the booth so he looked extra inconspicuous, he might have overheard Sharon seemingly narrating Peggy Carter’s entire life story, and at the end of the date, he might have heard Steve thank her and apologize for imposing like this, and Sharon tell him it was fine, and that she was happy to have someone to talk to who loved Peggy as much as she did, maybe more. He might have even heard Steve sad-laugh and tell her she had no idea. Or heard Sharon’s smile when she said she’s pretty sure she  _ does  _ know.

But, since Tony is an absolute gentleman and would never, ever creep on one of his friends this way, all Tony had to go on was that ever since Peggy died, Steve had been very, very sad.

“Ladies.” Tony clapped his hands together. “We have a problem.”

“The only lady here is Natasha,” Clint whined.

“I object to that notion!” Thor boomed. “Although we may not be of the feminine persuasion, being a lady is nothing to frown upon! It is a compliment.”

“Thank you, Thor.” Natasha sent him an almost-smirk.

Clint crossed his arms and slumped down lower in his seat, pouting. He mumbled something about Thor being way too good with women.

“It’s because he’s a feminist,” Rhodey said. “You should try it sometime.”

“I do not know what feminist means,” Thor boomed, “but if it means believing in women, then I fully support that!”

Natasha opened her mouth to launch into what was no doubt a lengthy and very detailed explanation of exactly what feminism is, but Tony cut her off. “We can talk gender politics later. Right now, we have something more important at hand.” He slapped down a pile of pictures of Steve and Sharon on a date. 

“I thought you weren’t going to spy on them.” Natasha leaned forward and picked up a picture.

Tony waved that away. “It’s not spying, it’s casual surveillance. From a concerned friend.  _ Look  _ at that face.” Tony pointed to Steve’s expression in the picture. “That is not the picture of a happy face.”

“So?” Bruce was leaning back and seemed concerned. “Steve has been depressed ever since Agent Carter died. Everyone knows that.”

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey agreed, standing behind the couch. “Doesn’t this seem a little… personal?”

“Of course it’s personal! It’s  _ friendship.  _ Now where was I? -Oh yes.  _ That  _ is not the face of a happy man. He is on a date with presumably someone he’s had the hots for for  _ months.  _ He should be over the moon. But no.  _ That  _ is the face we get. Does  _ anyone  _ else see a problem with that?”

“The love of his life just  _ died,”  _ Bruce pointed out.

“Okay, one, I don’t believe she was the love of his life. I think that was  _ greatly  _ exaggerated. And besides, there isn’t just one person for everybody. That is a toxic myth and I, for one, am tired of it.”

“Only because you want to sleep with every woman in New York,” murmured Rhodey.

“Hey!” Tony snapped his fingers. “Focus here! So, how do we fix this?” He gestured largely to the photographs.

“Well,” Natasha said, glancing up under her eyebrows in that way that made you feel like she was penetrating your soul, “You could  _ talk  _ to him.”

Tony spun around. “Any other suggestions?”

Bruce gave him a look. “Tony…”

“No, I’m serious. The floor is open for discussion. Does  _ anyone  _ else have any suggestions?”

The room stayed silent.

Clint awkwardly put back the photograph he was holding and scratched the back of his head. “I agree with Nat, dude. I think you should just talk to him.”

“All right!” Tony snatched away the pile of photographs. “Since no one has any helpful suggestions, I guess I’ll just come up with my  _ own  _ plan. Come on, Rhodey!”

“Oh no. You are  _ not  _ dragging me into whatever crazy scheme is stewing in that crazy brain of yours.”

“Of course you are. Best friends.” Tony dragged Rhodey out by the elbow.

“No, Tony,” Rhodey protested, even as he let himself be dragged along, “This has got to stop. You have got this  _ weird  _ fixation with Steve dating Sharon, and it’s really starting to make me uncomfortable. Just let it go, man.”

“Nope. She’s not good for him. This has got to stop. We should stage an intervention.”

Rhodey groaned loudly.

*

Rhodey wasn’t sure exactly how he’d gotten to this point, because despite extensive arguing and a laundry list of doubts and the tired reiterated refrain of ‘you should really just talk to him’, here he was, knocking on Cap’s door. “You ready?”

“Are you sure I should go through with this?” Steve’s voice, muffled through the door, sounded uncertain.

“Just go with it, man.” Rhodey was pretty done with the whole situation.

“...Give me a minute,” Steve said. There were sounds like he was shuffling around. Rhodey could have sworn he heard something spritzing, and when Steve opened the door, he was accompanied by the gentle waft of cologne. “Do I look all right?” he asked, his eyebrows adorably knitted together. 

“You look great. Come on.” Rhodey led Captain Rogers to the elevator and punched the button for the ballroom floor.

“Guessing I’m gonna find out why you told me to ‘dress to the nines’?” he asked, facing forward, his posture kind of stiff.

“Oh, you’ll find out,” Rhodey reassured him. 

The elevator doors opened.

Steve Rogers blew out a nervous breath. “How many people should I be expecting?”

“No idea.”

Steve ducked his head, came to terms with this, raised his chin, squared his jaw, and stepped out of the elevator, his back military-straight. “Better get this over with.” 

Rhodey stepped across the hallway and opened the red-and-gold double-doors. Frank Sinatra’s ‘How About You’ poured out the door. Steve stepped inside and gasped. 

He stumbled forward a few steps and looked around in awe. This absurdly perfect man, with his hair combed to the side like a ‘40s president on television, with his silver-blue perfectly-fitted, albeit stiff, suit, and his faded cornflower dress shirt, and his gentle blue tie which brought out the blueness of his long-lashed eyes-- this man’s mouth was agape, his face stricken, as though everywhere he looked, he was seeing another ghost.

“You like it?” Tony was leaning his hip against a table and cradling a martini glass in one hand. “I designed it myself.”

“How did you know?” Steve asked, still awed at his surroundings.

“Google, my friend. ‘The Stork Club’ was not exactly hard to find.” Tony set down his glass on the table and stepped towards Steve. 

That baby blue gaze locked on Tony. He was about to say something, but his eyes widened and the words caught in his throat. Tony’s hair was combed back in graceful curves. His suit, his shirt, his tie- they all looked like they had been plucked straight out of the 1940s. Tony looked impeccable in them, of course- he’d checked and double-checked with his Hollywood costume department contacts, and they had assured him this was all historically accurate- and Tony’s chest puffed out with pride as he basked in the Captain’s awed and admiring gaze. “See something you like?” Tony couldn’t help but tease.

Steve swallowed. “You… you did all this for me?” His brows crinkled together. “-Why?”

Tony shrugged with a smile. “Can’t a friend help a friend?” The song changed. A lively jazz piece started playing. “Come on.” He tugged Steve towards the wooden dance floor.

“I--” Steve objected. “I don’t dance.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that crap, you’re literally perfect. If I could learn this in twelve hours, so can you. Come on.” He tugged Steve onto the dance floor and placed their hands where they were supposed to go. Their bodies were close.

“Tony,” Steve warned.

“I know, I know. You promised the dance with Peggy. But the thing is, she couldn’t make it. And hell if she wanted you to go your whole life without ever dancing again. Sure, you might find that ‘right partner’ you were looking for someday, but let’s be real here. You’ll want to know how to dance when you do. So come on. Left foot first.” Tony stepped forward with his right foot.

Steve followed the motion awkwardly. “I’m all toes,” he warned.

“Good. Toes are good. Ballerinas dance on their toes. Now the right foot.” Tony stepped. Steve followed. “Good! Now left, right, left, right- see? You’ve got this. Super serum. Super fast learning abilities. See? All this time, you’ve been kidding yourself. -Ow! -No, it’s okay, it’s okay, that was just… my big toe, here we go. And… Left!”

Tony led Steve in the simple dance. Steve was adorable and clumsy and awkward, and he kept stepping on Tony’s feet, but it was almost worth it just to smell that classic aftershave and whatever cologne he’d decided to wear. Whoever taught Steve Rogers how to wear cologne was a goddamned blessing, because he was wearing  _ just  _ the right amount, and the way it was wafting off of him was enough to make Tony dizzy.

“Okay,” Tony said as the next song started, “This one is a little trickier. We’re gonna do a spin at some point. You with me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He led Steve in the dance. Their bodies wound close. As Steve warmed up to the steps, he grew light on his feet. He was almost a match for Tony’s natural grace.

Song after song, they danced. The spinning must be what was making Tony so dizzy. His torso felt cold everywhere Steve’s hands were no longer touching, and it burned where they did. A slow dance started, and instead of shying away like he expected him to, Steve drew him closer. He held Tony cheek-to-cheek, their chests almost flush, one hand on Tony’s waist, the other out to the side, fingers interlocked with Tony’s. “I think I can manage a slow dance,” Steve said in a voice so low it shot straight through to Tony’s toes.

“Why, Cap!” Tony teased, breathless, “I didn’t know you cared!” His heart was racing and he was about ninety percent sure Steve could feel that, even through the combined lapels of their suits.

“Funny thing to say, coming from the guy who arranged all this for me.”

Which, okay, was a fair point. “Just thought you could use a little perking up, is all.” Tony was almost embarrassed. His palms were actually  _ sweating.  _ Good thing Tony didn’t do ‘embarrassed.’

“Is that so?” Steve murmured, his voice low, his lips very near the shell of Tony’s ear.

Tony gulped. “Yeah. We thought- well, Pepper thought, but I thought of it a split second later- that maybe since Peggy died, and she was the last link to your past, that maybe you were feeling a little homesick. That maybe you just needed something familiar to cling to, while you bid the rest of your world goodbye. Or, well, the world you grew up in anyway. I mean, it’s not like this  _ isn’t  _ your world. You’ve been living in the present for a few years now, and you seem to be getting pretty used to it. But we- well,  _ I  _ thought- maybe, if we could give you something from your past, well- you can’t exactly go home, but. Maybe, if you had like, a goodbye party or something…” Tony shrugged. It was getting hard to think.

It took Tony a second to realize that they had stopped dancing. Steve had pulled back enough to look at him, and the level of emotion in those eyes was- it was like a spotlight focused straight through Tony’s pupils. But it was also like a tractor beam, because try as he may, Tony couldn’t pull his glance away. “Tony,” Steve said, with more emotional layers than a gigantic emotion-onion-layer-cake or something.

“Steve,” Tony said because Steve had just said his name and saying Steve’s name somewhat sarcastically seemed like a good comeback at the time.

Steve sad-smiled, but in an adoring way. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony wanted to ramble, but his mind was curiously blank. His skin started to prickle, because rambling was kind of his defense mechanism, and he couldn’t think of anything to say, and Steve was giving him this look that was making his insides squirm, and Tony didn’t know what to do, and he wasn’t saying anything, he was just  _ staring  _ at him, and his hand was still burning a hole through Tony’s waist and they were still loosely holding hands and the music was still playing and then it hit him. 

The pieces all clicked into place. 

Tony’s cheeks tinted pink.

Steve was still staring at him. And smiling ruefully. “Can I tell you something?” he asked kind of bashfully.

“Sure,” Tony answered automatically because what even is rational thought anymore, anyway.

Steve released Tony’s waist in favor of scratching the back of his neck. His gaze skittered to the side. “That… exhibit at the Smithsonian museum. It only got the story half-right.”

Tony’s brows knitted together. He really had no idea where this was going. 

Steve released Tony’s hand, but didn’t back away. “They said I loved Peggy, and that was true. I did love Peggy Carter. She was beautiful, and attractive, and quite possibly one of the best friends I’ve ever had. And… one day, I would’ve probably married her, if I’d had the chance. And we would’ve been happy.”

Tony waited. Steve’s tone indicated that there was more. “Okay...” he prompted.

Steve’s mouth ticked up in a rueful smile. “But if I’d been given a choice… If it had been okay back then, I…” Steve cut himself off. Silence fell around him like a heavy blanket. He looked sadder than Tony had seen him since the funeral, and Tony’s brain was so busy repeating ‘cheer up, cheer up, cheer up!’ that he almost missed the next thing he said, “-I would’ve married Bucky.”

Tony could practically hear the glass breaking as his worldview shattered. “You. What?”

Steve took a half-step backwards. “Is that okay? I’ve-- been spending time on the internet, and. It seemed like. Like that was okay, now.” His cheeks burned. He shrank into himself like a gigantic bashful turtle.

“No, no! It’s fine!” Tony blurted hastily. “It’s great!”

“It’s… great?”

“Yeah!” Tony agreed with himself stupidly. “It’s… great.” He realized he probably sounded like he currently possessed about one tenth of his actual intellect, and he stepped backwards and turned his back on Captain America and tried to recollect his composure and reassamble his actual worldview.

He panicked a second later when Cap asked, sounding kind of hurt, “Did I do something wrong?”

Tony’s shoulders stiffened. “No, Steve. You never do  _ anything  _ wrong. You’re so frustratingly  _ perfect.  _ No wonder Sharon is falling in love with you.” He attempted to laugh, but it sounded fake, even to him.

“Sh-- what?” Steve recovered from his surprise and had the gall to actually smirk audibly. “You thought I was dating Sharon?”

Tony frowned and turned around. “Isn’t that what you were doing? Going out for coffee and stuff, just the two of you?”

“Tony.” Steve scratched his forehead, partially obscuring his face. “She and I were just catching up, talking about the past. That’s all it ever was.”

“Wait. So you weren’t… attracted to her?”

“Of  _ course  _ not! That would be weird.” Steve made a face. “I practically married her great-aunt.”

“Right, but-! I thought… Doesn’t that mean you’d like her, because she’s…?”

Steve frowned. “Tony, it would be cruel and shallow to date someone because she reminds me of someone else.”

“Right, but.” Tony’s frown deepened. “So. You  _ didn’t  _ find her attractive?”

Steve shifted his weight. “Before I knew they were related, yes. I thought Sharon was kind of cute. But after… I really just wanted someone to talk to about Peggy.”

“So you were never dating.”

“We were never dating.”

The floorspace between them had shrunk at some point. Huh. Tony should have noticed that.

Steve opened his mouth, shut it again, opened it, shut it again, smiled a rueful smile, held out a hand, and said, “Care for one more dance?”

Tony took his hand. “You still want to dance with me after that?”

Steve shrugged one shoulder and replaced his hand on Tony’s waist. “What’s one misunderstanding between friends?”

“-Fair enough.” He allowed Cap to lead, but of course, had to tease him about it. “Making me be the girl this time?”

Steve’s cheeks burned. “Sorry.” He stopped. “Would you-? Did you want to lead?”

“No, no. I’m fine with being your girl.”

Steve froze. He stared at Tony like he’d just been slapped.

“What?” Tony’s gut twisted and sank. He’d done it again. He’d messed up somehow.

“You’re not my girl.” Steve tightened his grip and led them, jaw squared. “We are two men, dancing. And it’s… Something I could have never done, back in the forties.”

“...Oh.” That hit Tony like a gut-punch. But he couldn’t help asking, “So… you’ve always wanted to do this?”

“Is that a problem?” Steve challenged. He spun and dipped Tony.

Tony clung to him for dear life, eyes wide. Steve’s strong arm supported his back. “No problem,” Tony squeaked.

“Good.” Steve pulled him back up. He danced with a vengeance, like he had some invisible competitor that he was determined to beat. 

Tony was swept along, helpless to do anything but follow. “You can thank me later, I guess.”

“Or I could thank you now.”

Something about Steve’s tone sent delicious heated shivers through Tony’s nerves. “Or you could do that.” He was currently being dipped. The look in Steve’s eyes was  _ intense.  _

Steve searched Tony’s face like he was looking for something. Tony wasn’t sure what, and he was torn between trying to maintain a poker face, and trying to spell out exactly what he wanted to say, to somehow etch some really obvious clues into his face and hope that he didn’t scare Steve away forever.

Steve slowly drew Tony back up, still staring at him. 

Whatever he was searching for, he must not have found it, because Steve’s expression eased, the focus disappeared, and he released his hold on Tony. One side of Steve’s mouth tipped up. “Thank you, Tony.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony tried to hide the crushing disappointment.

“It… really meant a lot to me,” Steve reiterated. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

They stood there, awkwardly looking at each other and trying not to look at each other. The dance seemed to be over, yet the music played on. Neither seemed sure whether to stay there or just leave.

Steve’s mouth ticked up in a barely-there rueful smile. “…I’d like to stay in here, for a while. -If that’s all right with you.”

“I can stay with you,” Tony blurted. “Or I could not. You know, if you want to be alone. But I could keep you company. Mix you a drink, or something. Do you drink? -Right, you can’t get drunk. Super serum. Never mind, I remember. God, what a stupid question. I’ve only heard that approximately five hundred times since you got defrosted. At first we all thought you were a prude. Turns out alcohol doesn’t do anything to you. What’s the fun of alcohol without the fun of alcohol? So no drinks. But I could stay here and. I don’t know. What is it you did for fun in the forties?”

“Tony.”

“Yes?”

Steve smiled apologetically. “I want to be alone.”

Disappointment sank Tony’s heart like a rock. “...Right. Okay, yeah, I’ll just. I’ll have Rhodey just. Guard the door, and. Yeah.” Tony picked up his discarded martini, downed the rest of it, and headed out the door. He closed the door behind him.

Rhodey was waiting outside, leaning against the wall, scrolling through something on his phone. He glanced up, exited out of whatever-he-was-reading, and pocketed his phone, straightening. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Did you talk?”

Tony offered him a strained smile. “Cap just wants to be alone. Guard the door for me? -Thanks, Rhodey, you’re a pal,” Tony finished without waiting for an answer. He disappeared into the elevator and left Rhodey there alone.

*

There was a knock on Tony’s bedroom door that nearly made him jump out of his skin. He hastily toweled his hair, called “Just a minute!”, threw on a white tank top and a pair of Batman pajama pants, and opened his bedroom door.

Steve was standing there, one fist poised to knock again, wearing a very serious expression, a conservative-yet-still-skin-tight gray t-shirt, and pajama pants with Snoopy on them. 

“Oh,” Tony said, feigning complete neutrality. “It’s you. What can I do ya for, Cap.”

“Can I come in?”

“That’s kind of forward isn’t it?” Tony stepped aside anyway. Curiosity killed the cat. “Coming to a guy’s bedroom in the middle of the night…”

“Rhodey said you wanted to talk to me.” Steve looked truly serious. “He seemed kind of worried.”

Tony blinked. “So you rushed to my bedroom at ten-thirty p.m.? Isn’t that kind of…?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Steve sat on the edge of Tony’s bed. “Should I be worried?”

“About me?” Tony waved the concern away. “Rhodey exaggerates. He’s such a worrywart. Really, I’m fine.”

“He seemed to think you were bluffing.”

“About what?” Tony screwed up his face. His nose crinkled.

“Being fine.” Steve’s voice carried a lot of gravity.

Tony rolled his eyes. He pulled a hand over his face. He was really going to have to explain this. Or bullshit his way out of it. Either way. 

“As perhaps one of the world’s foremost experts on lying when I say ‘I’m fine’...” Steve said with that deep gravity to his voice, “If you aren’t fine, I really want to know.” He sent Tony a pleading look. “You’re my friend.”

Ouch. The word ‘friend’ stung. “Aren’t  _ I  _ supposed to be the one consoling  _ you? You’re  _ the one who just lost the love of his life. Or the second one, anyway.”

“Tony, what’s wrong?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Nothing! Nothing is wrong. Rhodey is a worrywart, Natasha is a meddling know-it-all, and I am  _ fine.” _

Steve’s frown deepened. “I never said anything about Natasha.”

Tony backpedaled. “Well, if she says anything, ignore it.”

Steve stood. “Tony, are you hiding something from me.”

Tony paled. His heart rate kicked into double-time. “No. I’m fine.”

“Was it something I did?” Steve said in his I’m-beating-myself-up-now voice.

“NO! God.” Tony pulled his hands over his face again. “You’re perfect. You probably couldn’t do anything wrong if you  _ tried.” _

“I’d like to believe that,” Steve said, standing closer, “but I’m really worried about messing this up.”

Tony blinked. He lowered his hands. “Messing  _ what  _ up?” He frowned.

“This.” Steve gestured between them.  _ “Us.  _ Our… friendship,” he said as though the word didn’t sit quite right.

“Oh.” Tony detached himself from the hopemobile trying to run him over. “Being teammates? Is that what you’re worried about? Because you shouldn’t be. Whatever Rhodey said, yeah, I give you lip sometimes, but that’s only because it’s fun to tease you. I like to give you shit on the battlefield. It’s fun. That doesn’t mean I’m  _ mad  _ at you or anything. Or whatever Rhodey said.”

“It’s not-- Rhodey didn’t say anything about that.” Steve was closer.

“Oh. Then what? Worried you’re gonna wear out your welcome? Because you seriously can stay at Stark Tower for however long you want. I wasn’t kidding about that. Everyone can, not just you. Why do you think I re-named it Avengers Tower?”

“Tony.” Steve stood very close. “I don’t…” He seemed to struggle for words. He seemed to beat himself up. He sighed. “If you don’t feel the same way about me, I understand. I don’t want that to come between us.”

Tony felt like he had missed approximately an entire novel in whatever series life was reading. “Um. What?”

Steve gave him a sad, sad look. “I get that you were trying to make me happy, but you didn’t have to do that, earlier, out of pity. I’m okay with being just friends. Even if you figured out my feelings before I did… it’s okay, if you don’t return them. I don’t expect you to.”

“Hold up.” For the second time that day, Tony Stark’s entire worldview screeched to a stop, and he’d been thrown out the windshield by the inertia. “Are you saying you-? You think I’d-?”

“Isn’t that what this is about?” Steve scanned his face, browbeaten and apologetic. “Isn’t that what you wanted to talk about? To tell me it wasn’t what I thought it was?”

Tony could feel hysterical laughter bubbling up behind his arc reactor. “It isn’t what you think.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “Then what?”

Tony threw his fucks to the wind, yanked Steve down by the back of his neck, and kissed that stupidly perfect mouth.

Steve stiffened, taken by surprise, and was just beginning to ease into the kiss when Tony pulled back.

Tony blinked in wonder like  _ he  _ was the one who’d just been taken by surprise. He frowned a little. “I think I  _ love  _ you.”

And instead of the immediate rejection he’d been expecting, Steve grabbed Tony by the sides of his face and kissed him passionately, pressing their chests together. He backed Tony up against the nearest wall, plastered their bodies together, and kissed him with abandon and fervor that Tony had no idea Steve had possessed. He melted against that perfect body. His arms wound up around Steve’s enormous shoulders; he clung to that warm, broad back. Steve went in for tongue and Tony opened his mouth unquestioningly. The bid for tongue only seemed to spur Steve into an even higher drive for urgency. His burning-hot tongue traced the inside of Tony’s mouth like he’d been dying to get in there for  _ months.  _ Tony let his jaw slacken, let his mouth drop open, stroked that searing tongue with his own, soft one. If he was whimpering, so sue him.

Steve traced the inside track of Tony’s gums, tugged his lower lip between his teeth, gave it a good suck, ran his tongue along the inner ridge, smashed their mouths closer, sucked Tony’s upper lip into his mouth and gave it the same treatment. Tony clung to him, stars exploding behind his eyelids, very,  _ very  _ aware of the hot cylindrical shape lengthening and hardening against his groin, just  _ barely  _ contained by those innocent Snoopy pajama pants. He pressed his own erection harder against Steve’s upper thigh. Steve Rogers  _ moaned  _ into Tony’s mouth.

And then, adorably, he drew back, eyes unfocused, lips all swollen. “Is this okay?” he asked, husky and breathless. He swallowed. “Am I going too fast?”

“God, no. I want to rip those stupid pants off of you right now.”

Steve blinked. “I thought you liked Snoopy.”

“I do. But I also like you naked.”

“You’ve seen me naked?”

“Not yet, but I’m going to.” Tony shoved his hands up under the hem of Steve’s stupidly tight shirt.

Amazingly, Steve took the cue and stripped out of it. He tossed it on the floor behind him and drew Tony closer, pressing their hips together. “Are you sure?” he asked, half a breath away.

_ “Damn  _ sure.” Tony recaptured that stupidly perfect mouth, pressed Steve backwards until his knees hit the bed, climbed up over him, making out the whole way, until Steve was on his back and Tony was lying on top of him, and Tony broke away to discard his own shirt.

Steve stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Wait.” He frowned.

Tony internally screamed in exasperation. “What?!”

Steve gently traced the scar tissue splaying outwards from the edges of the arc reactor. “...Does it hurt?”

“The arc reactor? No.”

“Can you…” Steve bit his lip. He traced another path outward, towards Tony’s nipple, but stopped just short. “Can you feel the shrapnel?”

“Eh. Sometimes.” Tony  _ really  _ didn’t want to talk about this right now.

Steve’s hand trailed slowly down his torso. “Do you ever wish it hadn’t happened?”

“All the time, Steve. No one wants to live with an electromagnet in his heart for the rest of his life. But you know what? If that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be Iron Man, and I wouldn’t have met you, or become a superhero, so who’s the real winner here?” Tony leaned down to resume making out.

Steve stopped him by turning his head to the side. 

Tony retaliated by making out with his neck instead. If the dick jumping against his inner thigh was any indication, Steve  _ really  _ liked that.

But he stubbornly kept talking anyway. “Do you ever wish it was gone?”

“Steve. It’s a part of me now. I’m used to it. I’ve moved on. And I would  _ really  _ appreciate if  _ you  _ would move on and take off your pants.”

Steve snorted. “Forward, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have  _ no  _ idea.”

“Fine, then.” Steve raised his hips, pushing his dick more firmly up against Tony’s thigh/pelvic region. He tugged them down partway, almost enough to reveal his dick, but had to stop short because Tony was straddling him and his thighs blocked the way. Steve crooked an eyebrow.

Tony shimmied back, yanked down Steve’s pants, and took a moment to marvel at the absolutely magnificent erection before him. He whistled. “Paragon of human perfection,  _ indeed.” _

Steve blushed. “It was like that  _ before  _ the serum…”

“Holy fucking shit. Your friend Binky was missing out.”

“That’s not what  _ Bucky  _ would’ve said.”

Tony was about to object on Steve’s behalf, but he looked up, Steve was smirking mischievously.

Tony gaped. “You-- In an  _ apartment?  _ In the  _ 1940s?” _

“And in the army,” Steve added bashfully.

“Holy shit.” Tony had truly stumbled upon perfection. “We are  _ so  _ winning the duck this year.”

“The… duck?”

“Natasha and Clint are getting a run for their money,” Tony commented without explaining. Whatever question Steve was going to ask was cut short by Tony’s mouth closing over the tip of Steve’s dick. Steve’s hands convulsed on the bedsheets, his fingers digging in tight. Tony tongued the underside and delighted in making him squirm. He pulled off slowly, licking smooth salty skin the whole way. “Been a while, Cap?”

Steve moaned. “Don’t stop.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Tony dove back down and sucked Steve’s dick with gusto. 

*

The room was dark. The clock on Tony’s bedside stand read 12:32 a.m. Tony lay on his back, one arm thrown behind his head. His arc reactor glowed softly through his tank top, casting the room in a dim blue glow. 

Curled around him, resting on his side, lay the shirtless form of Steve Rogers. His cheek rested on the pillow, his nose brushing Tony’s shoulder. One of his heavy, muscular arms was anchored around Tony’s waist. His breaths came deep and even.

Tony stared at him for a long moment, still not sure this was all real. The scent of sex still hung, heady, in the air. There was a used condom knotted up in Tony’s bedside trash can. Tony was sore in all the right places. And Captain America was asleep on his shoulder.

“Man,” Tony said to himself, “I’m gonna hate waking up from this one.”

Steve’s arm tightened around Tony’s waist. A soft kiss pushed against his shoulder. “Me too.”


End file.
